


Whiskey In Mind

by pulangaraw



Category: Leverage
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulangaraw/pseuds/pulangaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you can't live it down, live it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey In Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Crack. At least I think it is, based on the fact that this whole fic is inspired by, stolen from and written around Christian Kane's song [Whiskey In Mind](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jPCuERLb98). Helped along by a dose of very fine cold meds.  
> Sadly, there is no official video, but it still cracks me up every time I hear it. I imagine him looking like [this](http://whedonsworld.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/christian-kane.gif) in the fictional video. ;)

Eliot slumped on the bar stool and stared morosely at his beer. He resisted the urge to rub his knee - it still throbbed from a well-placed kick their latest mark had gotten in, only a few hours earlier. The others had been busy tying up their latest case when Eliot had slipped out. He just needed some space, some time to think and calm down. _Time to brood_ the little Hardison-voice in his head said and he mentally smacked it. Hard.

The bartender came over and placed a shot glass in front of him. "From the lady," he said and pointed a thumb sideways.

Eliot turned to look, already trying to come up with a way of getting rid of whoever 'lady' had sent this over. He really wasn't in the mood tonight. Instead of some stranger, though, Parker slid onto the stool next to him.

"Anybody sitting here?"

Eliot grimaced. "Parker, I'm really not in the mood."

She pushed the drink closer to him, raised her own in a toast. Eliot took the glass and drank. Whiskey. Good one, too. "Thanks."

Parker leaned closer and spoke quietly into his ear. "I got more than whiskey in mind."

Eliot pulled back and opened his mouth to speak, let her down gently, then closed it again and narrowed his eyes at her. Something tugged at the back of his mind. "What'd you say?"

She grinned and repeated the sentence, this time half singing it. Something clicked into place.

"Oh, no. He didn't," Eliot growled.

From behind Eliot, Hardison's voice started singing, "Do you like the hard kick of old Kentucky Bourbon? Or the slow burn of Tennessee rye?"

Eliot half turned his head, glared at Hardison through his hair. "I hate you, man."

Hardison laughed. "Aw, brah, you don't mean that."

"I do. I'm gonna kill you," He pointed at Parker, "And you too."

Parker just laughed. "I liked it."

"How old where you, dude?" Hardison asked, sounding curious. "You look like you're twelve in the video."

"You got video?" In his surprise, Eliot nearly forgot to growl.

"Youtube. Wanna see it?"

"No. And I was twenty-one."

"You were cute," Parker said and slipped her arm into Eliot's. "Can we go home now?"

Before Eliot could respond, Hardison pressed closer on his other side and drawled so low only Eliot could hear, "Slide over and kiss me."

Eliot did just that. He'd learned from experience that it was the best way to shut Hardison up. After a few seconds, Parker got impatient and pulled at his arm. Eliot broke the kiss and leaned over to kiss her too.

"Don't get dizzy on us now," Hardison joked.

When they made their way out of the bar, Eliot couldn't stop the slow smile that spread across his lips. And if his heart wasn't exactly jumping, it was still beating just a little faster than was entirely necessary.


End file.
